


Tumblr Prompts: Leverage

by wibblywobblymess



Category: Leverage
Genre: Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblymess/pseuds/wibblywobblymess
Summary: Leverage drabbles frommy Tumblr.Each chapter is a different drabble.This work will be listed as COMPLETE, but I will add a new chapter when I write a new drabble.





	1. Eliot & Parker & Hardison - "Demon!” “No, just damn good contacts.”

**Requested by anonymous.**

 

   The pub was full of people, and while the voices weren’t loud, they did buzz together, and fill the room. Eliot smiled a bit to himself, listening to the happy voices through the kitchen door as he cleaned up kitchen, and turned things off. It was almost closing time – since it was Halloween, they were closing early - so the people lingering were only drinking, but Eliot wasn’t entirely ready to leave the room, knowing Hardison and Parker were going to try to talk him into doing something for Halloween.

               The door to the kitchen swung open, then, pulling his focus up, and he groaned at the sight of Parker, black cape around her shoulders, hair pulled back, and grinned at him to reveal the fangs in her mouth.

“…vampire?”

“Yeth!” she replied, grinning, lisping some through the teeth. “Come on, Eliot! Party time!” He sighed, rolling his eyes, but smirked a bit as he finished up, and followed her out.

“Can’t go while people are still…how did they all leave so fast?” he asked, looking around, startled, at the empty pub.

“Oh, they were all eager to party themselves, man,” Hardison told him, coming out from the bar. Parker bounced, spinning to face him, before jumping, and pointing.

“DEMON!” Hardison blinked, glancing at Eliot, and chuckled.

“No, just some damn good contacts,” he replied, as Eliot caught sight of the red ring in his eyes. “Besides, we went over this when you helped me pick out the costume, Parker. I’m Dracula. You’re my vampire bride. And Eliot is Van Helsing,” Hardison grinned, thrusting a bag at the hitter. Eliot’s eyes dropped to the bag, staring at it for a moment, before he looked back up at Hardison, brow quirked.

“Damn it, Hardison, I  _told_  you, I wasn’t doin’ this.” Hardison stammered, before motioning to where Parker was bouncing near the door.

“Man, you either put that shit on, or you upset her. Those are the options.” Eliot looked over at Parker, then at Hardison, then down at the bag, before squeezing the handle, and thrusting the bag against his leg.

 _“Damn it_ ,” he grumbled, ducking into the back, as Hardison smirked, and moved to loop an arm over Parker’s shoulders.

               After a couple minutes, Eliot walked out in black pants, a black shirt, a leather jacket, and a fake crossbow over his shoulder, and paused, looking at the pair by the door.

“It’s not bad, is it, Eliot?” Hardison teased, before squealing and bolting out the door at the sharp grunt from Eliot as he charged after him. Parker clapped, laughing, before clicking off the lights, locking the door, and following them outside.


	2. Eliot & Parker & Hardison - "This is...exactly what it looks like."

**Requested by thoughtscascade**

 

The bar was empty, which Eliot deemed to be the perfect time to just work on some recipes that had been sitting in his head the past few weeks. He knew Parker and Hardison were in the back – doing what, he didn’t know, he didn’t ask anymore – and even though he didn’t need them for the cooking part, he was already preparing to take his food back there for them to try.

               After finishing up, and plating, Eliot took a step back from his food, grinning a bit. He loved this, he loved the cooking, he loved this part of it, when he was sure it was good, because even if he was having his partners give it a taste test, Eliot was mostly using  _that_  as a ruse to feed them something that wasn’t junk food or orange soda.

               He gathered the plates in his hands, nudging out of the kitchen, and then across the room into the back. He could still hear Parker, her voice excited even if the words were low, but he couldn’t hear Hardison, now, as he came into the room to bring them the food.

“Alright, guys, I finished makin’ this…I think we should add it to…the…menu, Parker, what the hell?” he asked, eyes flitting up as he trailed, seeing Hardison hanging upside down from the ceiling, clutching the rope and squeezing his eyes closed. Parker jumped, spinning to see Eliot, before pointing.

“Oh, this? What? No, this…this is…exactly what it looks like.” Eliot just blinked, but Hardison’s eyes went open when he realized Eliot was there, startled.

“Ah, Eliot, man, get me down from here! See, we were tryin’ to do the Spiderman kiss, you know, but I thought we could swap it and  _she_ was gonna hang upside down, b-“

“Nope,” Eliot replied, not knowing what else to say, before backing out of the room, and disappearing back towards the kitchen.

“Eliot! Man, come on, she won’t cut me down!” Hardison hollered, but Eliot knew Parker would, eventually.

               He also knew he was probably better off devouring his food in the kitchen, where he couldn’t hear them.


	3. Quinn x Reader + "I'll kill you."

**Requested by anon.**

 

“If you get blood on my rug, I’ll kill you,” you threatened, shoving him towards the bathroom despite his grunt of pain.

“If you shove me again,  _I’ll_  kill  _you_ ,” he grumbled. You rolled your eyes, turning him to face you and pushing him down on the closed toilet, shaking your head.

“If you think you scare me, Quinn, we gotta talk. You haven’t scared me since we met. Where was the shot?” you asked him, digging in the linen closet just outside the bathroom before returning with a big green box that had a white plus on it.

“Left arm.”

               Your fingers were quick and careful as you helped him out of his shirt, and then kneeled beside him to clean up the wound on his arm. The humming was barely audible, the sound barely a vibration in your throat, as you finished cleaning his arm, and studied it.

“Not as bad as it’s been. You need a drink?” you offered, laying out the tools to pull out the bullet.

“Y/N.”

“If I’m going to play nurse – in a medical way, not a sexy way – I’m going to ask you these questions and I’m gonna mean it. Drink?”

“No.”

“Then buckle up, cowboy,” you chuckled, twisting his arm a little, and plucking the bullet out.

Like you said, not as bad as it’s been, considering the bullet was barely under the skin. Sighing, and dumping it into the trash, you wiped down his arm, cleaned the wound, and then began to stitch it up, feeling his hand clench against your shoulder. Quinn liked to play tough guy during the fix-up period, but it wasn’t hard for you to see that this shit did hurt, even him, even if his face didn’t give it away.

When the wound was stitched shut, cleaned again, wrapped, and everything was back in the box, you patted his thigh, standing, and moving to put the box away. You had barely gotten it on the shelf when you felt his arm around your waist, breath warm on your neck.

“Quinn.”

“You know I won’t kill you, right?” You laughed, rolling your eyes as you turned to see him.

“I do know that. You know I will if you bleed on my rug?”

“Of course I do,” he chuckled, ducking in to press a kiss to your cheek. It made you blush, but smile, patting your hand on his chest.

“Good. That said. You need to go lie down…I’m gonna clean up, and I’ll join you?” He hummed, brushing your hair off your face, and nodded.

“So long as you do join me.”

“Do I ever miss that chance?” you murmured, gently taking his chin against your palm as you kissed him lightly on the lips. “Go lie down, Quinn. I’ll be in in a few.”

“…can clean up wait?” You lifted your eyes to his, seeing the hopefulness there, and it made you forget about any mess in the apartment, as you pressed into his chest, arms careful around his waist.

“For you? Always.” It made him chuckle, and kiss your temple, as he pulled you to the bedroom.

“Thank you.” Quinn wasn’t open often, but you were not about to miss out on the chance that you knew was coming. Cuddling? With Quinn? Nothing beat it, ever.


	4. Quinn + “What are you doing?” “Hiding.” + “You have a picture of me? On your fridge?”

              It wasn’t unusual for the house to be quiet when Quinn rolled up, considering he usually rolled up in the middle of the night. Less people to see him on the streets. It was unusual for him to glance up at the house, though, and see a soft flicker of light from upstairs. Brow quirked, he glanced around the quiet street, slipping around to the back of the house and letting himself in.

               The last time he’d been to the house, it was right after you had moved in, and he was there to do two things – one, make sure the movers didn’t cross a line (he was pretty threatening when he had to be…not that he had to be with  _you_ , just  _them_ ), and two, to help you break in the new bedroom. This time, he saw immediately that the all the boxes were gone, and chuckled, jogging up the back steps towards your room.

               The lamp was on beside the bed, but the bed was empty, as he entered the room, and he glanced around, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. The hall was still dark, but he saw a flicker from the next room as he peeked out the door, and headed down, peering inside to see the light coming from the single bulb in the closet. A soft rustling came from the closet, so he furrowed his brow, following the sound, carefully peering inside.

               Behind a few shirts, dropped awkwardly in the corner, he spotted you, peering up at him, confused.

“…what are you doing?”

“Hiding,” you answered casually.

“…what?”

“I fell,” you told him, chuckling as you pushed the clothes of your lap. “Thought I heard a noise, turned, just…lost my balance. Help!” Quinn snickered, ducking in to take your hands and haul you to your feet. As soon as you were, you stepped into him, arms curling around his shoulders, making him laugh a bit as he flattened his hands on your back to hold you close. “Missed you.” That made him smile, and kiss your shoulder as you pulled back.

“Don’t blame ya.”

“Ah, smartass. You hungry?” you asked, leading him out of the room and down the steps he’d just come up.

“It’s like…1 am. Why are you even awake?”

“I had yesterday off, and I have tomorrow off, and I napped, and I am not tired. Lucky for you,” you countered, glancing over at him as you flipped on the light in the kitchen. “Food? Coffee?”

“It’s  _one in the morning_ , no coffee.”

“Tea it is,” you replied, grinning, and digging out cups, before pointing towards the fridge. “I have leftovers.”

“You always treat me so fancy, how did I get so lucky,” he commented, so dryly that you leaned into the counter to swing out your foot and kick him in the butt with a snicker. “Ah! Hey. Watch it, I will break that leg.”

“Only thing you do to this leg is make it shake, Quinn, you don’t scare me.” Even with his attempt to look serious, he couldn’t help but laugh a bit, and reach for the fridge door.

               It took you a moment to realize he hadn’t  _opened_  the fridge, as you started the pot to brew hot water, and you cocked your head, turning towards him, to see him staring at the small collage pinned to your freezer door.

“Quinn?”

“You have a picture of me? On your fridge?” The blush hit you quickly, and you ducked your head, shrugging. Of course you did. The collage was people who were important to you, and god, how important he was to you. When you didn’t answer, he turned his head to see you, to see your head down, as you pulled your lip between your teeth. “…I’m not mad.”

“…really?” you asked, unsure, glancing up. Quinn shrugged, crossing over to you.

“Only pictures people have of me anymore are mugshots, or surveillance shots. That’s a picture of us…” You shrugged, sighing, and lifted your head to really look at him.

“It’s the only one I have…and I spend most of my awake time in the kitchen,” you told him, with another shrug. You couldn’t fight the soft laugh as he brushed your hair off your face, and ducked in to kiss you gently.

“…I missed you, Y/N,” he murmured, pulling you in for another hug, as you nuzzled against his cheek, and tugged the band off his ponytail, letting his hair loose around his head.

“I missed you too…” you replied, scratching the back of his neck as he kissed your shoulder.

“Tell ya what. It’s late. Let’s…go upstairs…take a bath…and if food is still a necessity,  _I’ll_  cook.”

“Ooh, I like that,” you laughed, pulling back, smiling as he took your hand.

“Good. So  _move_ , or I’ll kill ya,” he growled, something that absolutely did not scare you or concern you, but actually made you blush again, as you grabbed his hand, and led him back up the steps.


	5. Quinn x Reader - "Take me home, please?"

 

              There were a lot of things you’d gotten used to, over the years. Gas prices, which sucked. The cost of food, which also sucked. Not getting to see Quinn for up to months on end. You hated it, but you adjusted to it, because it was just the way things were.

               Getting a flat tire on your way home from work, and getting grabbed off the side of the road?

               No. You were never going to get used to that. Mainly because it had  _never fucking happened before_.

               When you came to, your hands were bound to the arms of the chair, your feet to the legs of it, a strap of tape across your mouth. You honestly should have been terrified, and sure, part of you was, how could you not be? You were bound in a room with four men around you, each of them very clearly armed, and watching you like a hawk. But you weren’t completely terrified, you were marginally hopeful.

               The men kept speaking to each other, but you had no idea what they were saying – the accent sounded German, though…or maybe Russian. You weren’t entirely sure, you’d never been very good with that sort of thing.

               But the longer you were in that chair, the more the men seemed interested in removing you, and not in the nicest of ways, if the way a couple of them played with their knives told you anything.

               It had to have been a couple of days before the two without knifes spoke to their counterparts, not that you knew what they were saying, before smirking in your direction, and leaving them alone with you. That was when you became terrified, watching as one of them stood, plucking his knife out of the table where he’d stabbed it, a smirk curling on his lips as he yanked your head back by the hair.

               The knife didn’t slice deep enough to kill you, just barely enough to make you bleed, but you knew that was the point, based on how thrilled he seemed when you sobbed behind the tape, and struggled to stay still as he made a matching mark on the other side of your neck. His partner sniggered from the table, still playing with his knife, watching the both of you intently, as you sobbed, and begged into the tape for the man to stop.

“You know, the little lady is very  _clearly_  asking you to put the knife away. You probably should listen.” Both men spun at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, or, unfamiliar to them. When the knife moved from your throat, your head snapped up, eyes wide even as they burned, body jerking in the chair. The men sounded furious, you knew they had to be swearing, as they lunged at Quinn, but he just ticked his lips up in a smirk as they came to him.

               In less than a moment, both men were on the floor, their own knives in their chests, and Quinn’s cocky demeanor was gone as he hopped over them, hands rucking his jeans up as he crouched in front of you, one hand cupping your face as he used his other fingers to quickly peel the tape off your mouth.

“I’ve gotcha, Y/N.”

“Get me off this fucking chair,” you gasped, sniffling, feeling the tears cooling on your face. He didn’t need to be asked twice, hands yanking through his hair to get it off his face before he looked behind him, shifting to rip one of the blades out of one of the men on the floor, wiping it on the man’s slacks before using it to slice through your bindings.

“Can you walk?” You huffed, honestly not sure, but you grasped him about the shoulders as he helped you out of the chair, his arms going securely around your waist. “I shoulda been home sooner.”

“I don’t care,” you murmured, shaking your head, as he led you past the two bodies in the same room you were in, and out into the other room, where the other men were crumbled to the ground, too.

“I do. Any longer, might not have made it,” Quinn pointed out, and you glanced up at him, as he looked over at you, brow quirked when your fingers curled into his hair. “This shouldn’t have happened…I don’t know how to make this up to you.” You shook your head, ignoring the burning on your neck as best you could.

“Just…Take me home…please?” you begged him, as he studied your face, before he nodded, and pulled you back in against his side.

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”


	6. Quinn x Reader - “Can I do your hair?”

              Quinn was a hired man. He handled a gun better than anyone you’d ever seen. He destroyed people with a laugh and a smirk. He was a  _rough and tumble_  guy, he was violent. More than once (twice, three times, etc, etc) he came into the apartment in the middle of the night, bleeding, limp, bruised, beaten, and either tended to himself in the bathroom, or let you lead him there to clean him up.

               This was…not that Quinn.

               Quinn had been in the bedroom, cleaning his guns, when you and Alex woke up. When he heard the pitter-patter of her feet, he quickly packed things up and put them away in the safe, locking the door before coming into the living room. Alex paused by the couch, grinning over at him, not realizing he was even home, before she squealed, and leapt around the couch, throwing herself at him as you snickered in the kitchen.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, hugging her tightly.

“Hi!” she grinned, before pulling back, and cocking her head.

“…what?”

“Can I do your hair?”

               Which was how you turned around to find him sitting on the floor, cross-legged, hands in his lap, with Alex sitting on the couch behind him, grinning so happily as she fumbled her little fingers in his hair to try and braid it. You leaned on the counter, watching, lip pulled between your teeth as you fought the urge to giggle.

               When she finally finished braiding, Alex hugged him tight around the shoulders, planting a big, silly kiss on his cheek before wiggling off the couch and booking it into her bedroom. You laughed, then, bouncing into the living room and sitting down beside him, hooking your hands around his arm.

“You better not’ve taken pictures of that,” he huffed, as you rolled your eyes.

“Your hair is in a braid,” you pointed out. “You aren’t very threatening.”

“Your daughter put it in a braid.”

“My daughter loves you, and if you think you fool me by  _pretending to be tough_ , need I remind you, that you folded like a card table when she batted those eyes at you,” you told him, shifting to peer over the back of the couch. When you saw Alex in her room getting her clothes, before she shut the door to change, you leaned in, pressing your lips against his throat.

“…she’s a good kid,” he admitted, making you chuckle, and kiss his jaw as his hand curled against your neck. “When’s she leavin’ for soccer practice?”

“Ride comes in ten minutes. Means you gotta keep the braid for ten minutes.” He groaned, but you still snickered, leaning back to look at him.

               For as rough and mean and violent as Quinn could be, as you knew he could be even if he’d only been that angry once in front of you, this was not that Quinn. The Quinn sitting in front of you played with your six-year-old daughter the second she grinned at him, regardless of what that playing was.

               Alex hugged him, and kissed his cheek, before you walked her out to the van outside, where one of the other mothers was driving her and the rest of her team to practice. As soon as you got inside, Quinn climbed to his feet, shaking his head.

“Don’t bitch about the hair, Quinn,” you chuckled. “Could be worse.”

“How?” he asked, as you headed towards the bedroom to change clothes.

“…she coulda painted your nails. Again.”

               You squealed as he grabbed you, tossing you onto the bed before he climbed above you.

“You wanna make fun for how I am with your daughter? Or, did you want to make use of this time before her game?” he asked, brow quirked, and  _this_  Quinn, towering over you, this was the Quinn you met first, and you snickered, hands rubbing against his sides.

“Depends on if  _you_ are gonna dwell on the braid, or get your ass down here.” He huffed, but every ounce of sass that you knew was waiting to burst out of him dissipated when you pushed up onto your elbows, to press a kiss to his throat. “Or, I could take the braid out and pull your hair and see what happens.”

               The growl at the mere thought of you pulling his hair was answer enough, but it certainly didn’t stop you from drawing more deep, rough sounds from him as you plucked out the band in his hair, and dragged your nails across his head before tugging.

               The Quinn between your thighs, lips hot across your throat, voice rumbling in your ear?

               This was the Quinn you fell in love with, a mix of every version of him you’d ever met, the only person on the planet who could honestly make you forget your own name with the way his fingers danced across your skin.


	7. Eliot x Parker x Hardison - It feels like falling.It feels like rain. Like losing my balance Again and again {lyric prompt}

               Life for Eliot Spencer was not an easy thing. His childhood, technically, was okay, meaning he survived it, at the very least. After that, it just found the hardest walls possible to keep slamming him in to. He would get over one wall, only to be greeted on the other side by another. But when Nate showed up, when the team came together, Eliot climbed over the wall, and there wasn’t a wall in sight on the other side. Little ones popped up, ones that were easy to get through or over, but suddenly those large, constant walls were gone.

               Didn’t mean life was easier, just meant it was better.

               He was familiar with flings, and relationships. Hell, he almost got married, ages ago! Ages, a lifetime, before he was the Eliot he was now.

               Now, though…things were different.

               The first time he met Hardison and Parker, he automatically wrote them both off as  _fucking crazy_. A kid with a love for tech and a hatred for authority. A woman with the wiring in her head off, and a proclivity for leaping head first off a roof. Who would think them normal?

               He took to them quick. A lot quicker than he expected, in fact. They’d known each other two days when they were tricked to the warehouse, and nearly blown up, and instead of every man for himself, Eliot made sure Hardison got up when he tripped and got out ahead of him.

               What?

               Eliot was pretty sure he had adjusted really well in his life, all things considering, so he really didn’t realize it had happened, not at first. It was just, one day, he was standing and listening to Hardison rattle on and on about whatever geek thing he was rattling on about – there was so much, okay, he couldn’t keep track – when it hit him, and Eliot felt like he’d lost his balance. It startled him.

               And then it happened again, not too long after, when he’d made Parker grin. This time, he lost his breath.

               His heart started to skip, and he was sure he could have fallen to the ground, when the pair of them both smiled, and fuck, he realized what this was. He realized he was in love with them, but how the hell could he do that? They were dating, Hardison and Parker, Eliot needed to keep that in mind. He was their friend, he was  _their_  protector, he needed to keep himself in check with it. That one sucked, but what else could he do? He needed them, he couldn’t put himself first.

               It was a Thursday, late, the three of them watching a movie at his place after he offered to cook. They were all pretty sleepy, but Eliot will never, ever forget the feeling of Hardison’s hand on his wrist as the three of them sat on the couch. The hacker didn’t turn to see him, but as Parker snuggled into his side and struggled to stay away, he did smile, and squeeze Eliot’s wrist.

“ _We see it, Eliot._ ” His voice was low, as Eliot glanced down at their hands, as Hardison’s hand squeezed his wrist again, and Parker’s shifted over to drop into Eliot’s open palm. “ _You don’t gotta say it. But we know. And we feel it too._ ”

               Eliot was sure he’d passed out, when he’d woken up the next morning. He was sure pretty much getting their greenlit consent about…whatever they were, or whatever they could be, was in his head.

               At least, he  _was_  sure, until Parker kissed his cheek, and Hardison scratched his hand through Eliot’s hair, as they shifted around him to the fridge for something to drink.

               It was free falling, the wild, weightless feeling that struck him when he realized he wasn’t dreaming, that they were willing to try if he was, and in a somewhat un-Eliot moment, he grinned, hugging Hardison, and kissing Parker’s forehead, before shoving them out of the kitchen. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t make them breakfast?


	8. Quinn + 9 – Come on now, follow my lead. I may be crazy, don’t mind me; say boy, let’s not talk too much, grab on my waist and put that body on me {lyric prompt}

“I do not dance, sweetheart, stop askin’,” he chuckled into his glass, as you leaned on the bar beside him with a roll of your eyes.

“You’re here to shoot the drummer,” you chuckled, voice low as you talked only to him, patting your hand on his arm as you twisted to press your back to the bar, and look out at the dance floor. “You look out of place if you don’t at least try to dance.” Quinn tilted his head back, downing the shot, and thumped the glass on the bar, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Feel the need to tell everyone here my mission?”

“First of all?” you huffed, quirking a brow. “Only person who can hear me is you. Second? Talk to me like that again, I’m gonna leave your ass here.” He snickered, tilting his head as you reached out, flicking your fingers against his hair tugged back into a bun.

“What?”

“…I’m a fan, let me enjoy,” you smiled, ducking in to kiss his shoulder before patting his back as you pushed off the bar. “Come on.”

“…Y/N…”

“We can talk about it later, baby, just…get off your stool, let’s boogy.” He groaned, but let you pull him out onto the floor, on the fringes of the crowd.

“I don’t dance, sweetheart,” Quinn repeated, but you turned your back to him, planting his hand on your hip. With a smirk and a quirked brow, he pressed in behind you, sliding his arm the rest of the way around your waist.

“Don’t gotta dance…just gotta pretend,” you told him, tilting your head so he could hear you.

His body was warm along your back as you moved to the music, and really, he barely had to think about it, just letting your body move his as the music played. He held you close enough against him that your dancing moved him, so he could hook his chin over your shoulder, and it would look like his focus was on you, but he was focused, instead, on casing the drummer, because you were right. He was there to take out the drummer.

               It occurred to him, then, why you dragged him out onto the floor  _right here_ , where almost no one could see him with you in the way. Why you only pulled one of his arms around your waist. No one could see. The drummer needed to be taken out, the stage was mostly dark, save for the singer. He wasn’t one to use a silencer, typically, but he knew you had tucked it into your bag when you two left the apartment. The bag that was hanging, now, between your bodies, blocked from view.

               Fuck, he loved you.


	9. Quinn & 5 – If it’s love, if it really is, it’s there in his kiss (lyric prompt)

               With a sigh, you rubbed your hands over your face, trying to ignore the nerves in your stomach. Quinn leaned against the doorframe, watching you, until you just shook your head, and dropped your hands into your lap.

“Look, if you aren’t gonna talk, I’m gonna go to sleep. You know where the door is,” you sighed, flopping back, and curling up against the pillow.

“Y/N…listen…” he finally huffed, moving to sit. “I just…I know I fucked up.”

“One way of putting it.” The bed depressed as he sat beside you, and you opened your eyes to peer at him in the dark of the bedroom. “Continue.”

“I’m not used…to this. To…people  _wanting_ to see me. I’m a bad guy, Y/N. You know that.” You shrugged, fighting the urge to chuckle, because  _obviously_  you knew that, you’d see his guns, you’d seen him get angry. “But…you gotta know I love ya.” That, that made you scoff, and shake your head.

“How would I know that, Quinn? You’re here a couple weeks at a time,  _maybe_ , gone for months on end, and the last time I saw you, I found out I’m not the only girl you’ve been with  _this year_.” His hand was light on your back as he kissed your arm, leaned over your side, and you huffed, then, tilting your head.

“That’s over…it’s been over, most of the year, I just…I was frustrated, and I failed to mention that part.” You shook your head again.

“I don’t know, Quinn. I just…how do I know if you mean it?” you asked softly, voice shaky. God you loved him, as stupid as it seemed, and you wanted to believe him. You wanted him around. With very few exceptions, you’d never felt as good as you did with Quinn. He studied your face, despite the fact that he could barely see you, before sighing and pushing forward.

               The second his lips slid against yours, your heart stuttered, and you reached up, cupping his face, shifting back as he pressed closer and climbed above you. Any doubts you had, before, about how he felt about you, they were smothered beneath the warmth of that kiss, and god, you knew. You knew he loved you, even if he couldn’t say the words. And you were fine with that.


	10. Leverage + “Yes, I have four trees, don’t judge.”

               Hardison learned the first year he was with the team that Parker loved Christmas more than any other holiday. It was like there  _was no other holiday_ , only Christmas. Eliot had an idea, but when she tried to decorate the tree at Nate’s place in Boston with the Lion of Gilgamesh, he realized his idea was  _nothing_  like reality.

               Parker didn’t just love Christmas.

               Parker was  _obsessed_  with it, and in a good way. She always gave Eliot and Hardison the best gifts, and they put their heads together, and got her the best gifts, too. It was just the way they worked.

               Even with the snow falling, Eliot blanked on how close they were getting to Christmas, until he came back from prepping the kitchen, and paused, looking around the back of the shop to see all the decorations.

“…Hardison?”

“Yeah, man?” Eliot shook his head, eyeing the tree against the window, before moving to their briefing room, and stopping to eye another tree in the corner.

“Hardison, damn it, do we need this many trees? I also saw  _two_  in the dining room,” he pointed out, motioning over his shoulder. Hardison turned as he shoved the plug into the outlet, and threw his hands up.

“Yes, I have four trees, don’t judge. Makes it easier to get Parker stuff, don’t have to try to cram it all under this tree, some can go under that tree. One in the other room is for the staff, and the other is just for the Christmas Spirit.”

               Eliot blinked at him, blank for a moment, before sighing, and rolling his eyes, but as he turned away with a shake of his head, a small smile ticked up the corner of his lips. His little family was weird, and on the edge (or leaping over the edge) of crazy, but they were his. They were happy.

               As much shit as he gave them, he wasn’t going to do it right now. Hardison was right, about the need for the trees.

               He would never say so, but, Hardison was right.


	11. Eliot x Reader + “Here you forgot your lunch this morning and I didn’t want you to be hungry.”

 

               You were accustomed to a lot of things in your life.

               Traffic. Collection calls and wrong numbers. Paper cuts.

               You know. Normal shit like that.

               You were not, however, accustomed, to waking up late when your phone alarm didn’t go off, scrambling to get dressed, and racing out the door, ultimately deciding to  _fuck it_ , just run the three blocks to work because there was no way you were getting to your car and through this  _goddamn traffic_  in time to get to work.

               Jesus.

               After the hell of a morning – which had followed a great night, curled into the warmth that was Eliot Spencer – and after settling into work, tired, you realized one more thing that  _sucked_.

               You forgot your food, and your wallet.

               Shit.

               Well, you couldn’t think about it now, you could figure it out later. Instead, you set yourself up at your desk, and tried to focus on work, instead, but it was actually a lot harder than you expected to ignore the rumble in your stomach.

“Well, there you are.” You jerked in your chair, spinning around, and laughed at the sight of Eliot, pushing his hair off his face as he crossed the floor. You waved at the secretary in the doorway behind him, so she knew you were fine, before standing, and blushing as he ducked in to kiss your cheek.

“What’re you doin’ here?”

“You bolted like a bat outta hell, Y/N. Found your wallet and phone on the nightstand. And here, you forgot your lunch this morning…and I…didn’t want you to be hungry,” he admitted, shrugging, handing you the bag he was holding on to. You looked down at it, fighting the laugh at the size of the bag, before you placed it on your desk, and turned, hugging him tightly about the waist.

“You are fantastic,” you told him, as he chuckled, and hugged you back.

“I just know that you get angry when you don’t eat.”

“And you are no longer fantastic, get out,” you told him, pulling back as he laughed, and caught your hand.

“Make it up with dinner?” You tilted your head to see him, curious, fighting a smile.

“Are you cooking?”

“Course.”

“Then hell yes,” you replied, pushing in to kiss his cheek. “But like I said. Get out.” With a laugh, Eliot pressed a kiss to your cheek, and rolled his eyes.

“Just come to the pub when you’re done here, tabs on me.”


	12. Eliot/Parker/Hardison + “Don’t make me come over there myself” “Stop being such a baby.”

 

 

Hardison hissed as Eliot held his arm over the table, eyes narrowed, focused, as he stitched up his arm. Eyes lifting to see Hardison, Eliot stared him silent, before turning back to the task at hand.

“Don’t look at me like that, this hurts, man.”

“Stop being such a baby,” Eliot huffed, shaking his head, as he did another stitch. “This is nothing. Just be glad he missed.”

“Missed!” Hardison shrieked, as the needle pierced his skin again. “Missed my ass, man! If he missed, I wouldn’t be gettin’  _any_  stitches.” The sound of the door made him turn his head, but the voice made Eliot snicker.

“Don’t make me come over there myself,” she threatened, although there was no heat behind it, as she set the tray down on a table nearby, moving to set a drink down for Eliot, and hand Hardison another, before going back for her own glass.

“Parker, c'mon! This sucks!”

“Stitches suck, Alec, deal with it,” Parker answered, shrugging, downing part of her drink, before moving to lean over Eliot’s shoulder to see the work. “Besides, this is good work. Could be worse, could be bigger. Or you could have actually gotten shot.” Hardison scoffed, putting down his glass and pointing at the stitches Eliot was doing.

“Are you two blind, I did get shot!” Eliot sighed, pulling the needle through once more, before lifting his head to stare at Hardison, unamused.

“Man, if you had  _actually_   _gotten shot_ , I wouldn’t just be doin’ stitches, I’d be  _digging out a bullet_.” Hardison shivered at the idea of it, and shook his head, grabbing his glass again.

“…alright, alright, just…get this over with. But you owe me somethin’ good for this when we’re done.” Eliot rolled his eyes as Parker patted his shoulder, and she rounded to the other side of the table to kiss the top of Hardison’s head.

“You know I’m cookin’ dinner, don’t be a baby about it,” Eliot huffed, as Parker grinned.

“See? Already looking up,” Parker told them, hand thumping on Hardison’s wounded shoulder. Hardison squawked in pain, but Eliot huffed, fighting a laugh, before pulling the arm out again.

“But only if you  _both_  stop screwing around.”


	13. Hardison + Reader (& Eliot) - "I Lost The Baby."

“I lost the baby.”

        Hardison stared at you, face unreadable, as you stood beside him at the table, your hand on his arm. After a moment, he finally furrowed his brow, and shook his head.

“What?”

“The baby. The baby I was watching!” you hissed, tugging him close, glancing towards the doors. “I can’t find her! She was playing  _right over there_ , and I turned to get her something to drink, and she’s  _gone_.”

          It only took Hardison a moment to realize what you were talking about, but when he did, he started laughing, moving to sling an arm around your shoulders. Bewildered, you pushed his side. 

“Hardison! Not funny!”

“Y/N! You didn’t lose her! Eliot’s got her, she was hungry,” he said, pulling you towards the other side of the hall, and just barely through the door. Turning your head, you went still, smiling softly at the sight of Eliot, a few feet away, with the little girl in his lap, cooing softly at her as he fed her. 

“I’m killing you both for him taking her and you laughing at me. But that is the cutest thing, hold on,” you murmured, pulling out your phone and taking a picture. You didn’t care that he suddenly looked up at you with a threatening look, that picture was too cute to miss, and that was final.


	14. Eliot + “How’s the world’s most gorgeous girl doing?”, “Is there any place where you two can’t be found cuddling and being terribly sweet?”, “Am I allowed to say anything yet?”

“How’s the worlds most gorgeous girl doin’?” Eliot asked, glancing over at you as he entered the kitchen. You snickered, peering back at him, and shook your head.

“I’m flattered that you think I’m gorgeous, considering I’ve been baking for six hours and I’m pretty sure there is flour on my  _eyelashes_ , Eliot, but you aren’t gonna fool me,” you replied, as he laughed, and moved towards you, tilting your head towards him. 

“Nope, nothin’ in your eyelashes. But here,” he said, waiting for you to close your eyes before wiping your face off with a towel. “No more flour,” he replied, taking advantage of the moment to duck in and kiss you. The action made you hum, happily, wiggling as you kissed him back, even with your fingers buried in the dough you’d rolled out. 

“Aw, c’mon, man. Is there any place where you two can’t be found cuddling and being terribly sweet?” Hardison groaned as he entered the kitchen, stopping to rub his eyes. You pulled back, sighing, as Eliot groaned, and turned, glaring at his friend. 

“You know, this is just as much my business as it is yours, and if I wanna have  _five minutes_  bein’ somethin’ other than a hitter, I’m gonna take it.” You chuckled, bumping him with your shoulder, before looking at Hardison.

“No, the bread isn’t ready yet. Yes, I’m working on it, I promise,” you told him, and he nodded, moving towards the fridge. As soon as his back was turned, Eliot leaned in, kissing you again, making you hum softly as you returned the kiss, smiling. 

“Am I allowed to say anything yet?” The both of you jumped, and looked around, baffled, until Hardison looked up, and snorted. 

“Parker!” You both tilted your heads back, simultaneously surprised and not surprised to see her hanging upside from the ceiling, grinning and waving. 


	15. Quinn x Reader - “I wouldn’t say that” “I would”

“You seriously broke into my office, on a _Sunday_ , because you thought no one was going to be here? And, for what? T-to, to steal his computer and kill him?” you asked in disbelief, hands on your hips, as you stood in the doorway to your boss’ office. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Eliot replied, shaking his head, as Quinn chuckled. 

“I would.” You snapped your eyes towards him, as he put both hands up, despite the smile on his face. 

“ _Quinn_ , man, I told you, no one dies,” Eliot hissed, as Quinn huffed. 

“Right. Forgot. We’re the good guys,” he sighed, shaking his head, but you looked between them, unsure. “We just need to look at his computer, sweetheart, no one is gonna get hurt,” Quinn told you. You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the flip of your stomach at the nickname, before looking at Eliot. 

“Eliot can go in. You have to stay out here.” The two men looked at each other, before they nodded, and Eliot slipped by you, as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Are you seriously about to lecture me?” Quinn asked, brow quirked. 

“I’m about to tell you that I don’t know that I wanna see you again when you both leave this office, because I have the feeling that the only reason you’ve been nice to me is to get here,” you admitted, fighting the sinking feeling as you spoke. Quinn looked startled at that, shaking his head. 

“Are you kiddin’? I don’t put that much effort into someone if it’s just so I can get into their office. Besides, I didn’t know you worked for him until _after_  that first time,” Quinn insisted. You blinked at him a few times, before you shook your head, and started to turn.

His hand was warm on your arm as he pulled you around to face him, not too rough but definitely firm. 

“Quinn, stop it.’

“I do a lot of bad things for a living, Y/N, but _lying to you,_ making you think I care about you if I don’t, that’s not one of them,” he promised, sealing the words to your lips before you could answer. You whimpered, reluctantly curling your arms around his shoulders, as you kissed him back. The sound of Eliot clearing his throat made you blush, and pull back, ducking your head.

“I got what we need, lovebirds, can we go?”

“…I expect an apology dinner,” you huffed at Quinn, as he looked down at you. The grin on his lips made you blush, as he ducked down to kiss you again, quickly. 

“Anything you want! I’ll call you later,” he promised, following Eliot out the door.


End file.
